Finally, the various armies of monsters and elves gathered under the shadow of the black tower, more than seventy thousand soldiers in all, including goblins, orcs, lebralos, ogres, and the forces of allied countries for a myriad of reasons, as well as mercenaries and adventurers. A camp hours long marching, mixing multicolored tents of different nations and rustic shelters of skin and bones of animals and people. I never thought I would see that number of coats of arms under my command.
— Don't let it go to your head, the previous Shadow King ruled an army three times larger — the entity, unfortunately, made itself present.
— Yes, and they're all dead now. That's the most soldiers I could have gathered so soon after the last holy war.
From a box full of holes in a corner of the wall, Kangar's voice echoed, surprisingly excited:
— Lord Shadow King, it is ready!
— Well, it seems those recluses have finally finished preparing your trump card — the entity eavesdropped on a private conversation, as always.
— ...I'm coming there.
I turned my back on the balcony at the top of the tower and made my way to the work area of Kangar and his fellow necromancers.
Before I reached the first step of the staircase, a warrior in full armor and wearing a steel lion mask followed me just a few steps behind me.
— Feeling better?
— Yes, Celestino got some Healers to fix me up — Cruz replied. — He was afraid that normal healing magic wouldn't be effective, but apparently everyone who joined the cause earned the Title: Fallen, and now their healing powers only work on other shadow beings.
— That's great, but that's not why I asked.
— ...This is no time to lie around in a corner, mourning. You've lost people too, and you're still fighting. When this is over... When this is over, I'll have plenty of time to regret everything.
I pretended to believe that he would be fine at least until we accomplished our objective. I pretended to believe that, despite forgetting to wear his mask in the middle of the army, since the news about his daughter, I have never seen him without the disguise because he has gotten used to wearing it.
I pretended Cruz was the only one who needed time to properly grieve.
— I know.
We went down the stairs, past old machine rooms, then filled with hooded figures deciphering human texts and operating the rusty contraptions.
On the intermediate floors, improvised rooms had been set up for the leaders and most important figures of the army, and when they saw me with Cruz, they bowed and fell to their knees, proclaiming me lord, master, majesty and many other things that, due to the nature of the Missions that limited me, I would never become.
— My other half — wearing a cat mask, Vincente bowed to me ironically, in front of all the nobles with whom he acted as my intermediary.
A wave of the hand was enough to dismiss them and clear the way; even those who harbored contempt or betrayal in their hearts would not dare to provoke me after the public display of power when we defeated the master historian.
On the ground floor, in addition to the guard of Orc Knights, hundreds of court mages, and also, much to Celestine's dismay, a large number of apprentices straight from his magic academy, were enthusiastic about joining the forces of the shadows and learning about magics long considered forbidden by the ruling classes of society; unlike the old men on the upper floors, however, these young men fervently surrounded me with a question for every compliment they uttered. The only reason I wasn't tossed around by the crowd was that the tall Fallen Hero kept them at arm's length. Even so, when I raised a hand, the hubbub died away, and the large entrance hall quieted.
— Where is the goat? — I asked about Celestino's masked identity.
— Overseeing the teleportation of supplies, your majesty — answered one of the older Mages present.
That was indeed a shame, since I wanted to confirm the power resulting from Kangar's work. But in the end, that would be little more than a formality; it was a certainty that the necromancers had done their best in their production.
With Cruz leading the way, we finally reached the basement, and there was absolute silence. Immediately beneath the tower, the pipes that fed the skeletal machine had been running beneath the valley floor and through the roots of the mountains for many hours, perhaps days of marching, and the delicate knobs and sliders I had grown accustomed to seeing had been replaced by massive valves and levers that required multiple necromancers to manipulate.
Cruz and I took a rickety elevator to the top floor of that deep, dark pit, where hundreds of necromancers worked, the place divided into as many floors as there were above ground.
When the barred doors opened, we found ourselves in a relatively small room compared to the rest of the facility: a single lightbulb, similar to those that had dotted the ceiling of the secret room of the first master historian I had killed, illuminated what looked like an alchemical operating room, dotted with shelves laden with implements used to open flesh, crush bones, and dilute compounds. Instead of a patient, however, a dull black mass lay on the gurney.
— Ah, Lord Shadow King! — Kangar, wiping his hands with a towel, bowed, smiling broadly. — Welcome. Please allow me to present to you the fruit of our labors. — Excited and speaking very quickly, he pointed to the thing on the operating table. I tried to ignore how different he seemed at that moment from the mental image I had of him, at least until I got what I wanted. — Your new set of equipment!
— Macabre — commented Cruz.
— Well, considering that the raw material for these objects was the dried corpses of a number of other Shadow Kings, it would be somewhat difficult to give them a conventional appearance for elven culture. But personally, I think this is a beautiful piece!
— It doesn't matter, we have no time or resources to dedicate to appearances, anyway. Not at this point — I moved closer to the black mass and observed it closely.
Composed of the skin and bones of two of my predecessors, it was a skeletal-looking suit of armor, with visible bones, claws, and teeth, and few places where spikes did not protrude. In addition to the organic material, however, I noticed the presence of fans, pipes, cylinders, and other moving metal parts.
— What are these things?
— Enhancements made with ancient technology. Human magic often interacts unpredictably with system magic, but pure mechanical force should not interfere in a detrimental way. Basically, wearing this, even without using magic, will give you the strength of fifty men. Think of it as a strengthening spell drawn from the natural world, like a windmill that converts the power of breezes into friction — he explained, full of pride.
— What about the magic part? Don't tell me we stopped in Hell for nothing.
— Of course not! Indeed, the bodies of your predecessors offered excellent quality raw materials. Your strength and occultism should be multiplied several times over once you adorn this armor. However...
— Tell me, what are the negative points? There are always negative points.
— Yes, indeed. Since Lord Shadow King has asked me to provide the most powerful equipment possible, disregarding any superficial risks... There is no simple way to put this, so I will be blunt: not only does using this equipment require many hours of preparation, once you put on this armor, you will never be able to take it off.
— Hey! — Cruz stepped forward.
— It's okay. I've been ready for this from the beginning.
— Haicard...
— My life ended the moment I caught the attention of a certain someone, Cruz. If I had expectations of living a normal life for the next few decades, I wouldn't have offered you that Mission in the first place — I took off my magic hood, smiling at my friend. — But don't worry. I'm not suicidal — putting on the shadow disguise again, I ordered: — Take the armor to the top of the tower. What about the weapons, Kangar?
— Here it is! — The necromancer led me to a box on the other side of the room, practically bouncing with excitement, and opened it. — I present to you, Epilogue. The last and greatest sword you will ever use.
Inside the box and resting on red velvet, a long sword, even larger than my own body. The tool had a body composed of two spinal columns forming a subtle "S" silhouette, with the spinous processes supporting a pair of long metal tubes with many screws, and the vertebrae displaying a blade of the same cold and opaque material. The guard was composed of four skeletal hands and divine metal supports, protecting the swordsman's hand completely.
— A named sword… — Despite its size, the weapon felt so comfortable in my hands. I lifted it and felt as if the bones of the ancient Shadow Kings were dried plants, begging for my magical stamina. When I did as the corpses wanted, and fed them with magic, a blood-red mist emanated from the weapon, similar to the one that Strong Cleave exuded in another color.
— The weapon's raw material is already of high enough quality to cut through any elven metal like butter, but when you fuel it with your energy, its offensive potential surpasses that of Strong Cleave.
— And what are these two for? — I noticed a pair of triggers near the end of the cable.
— These are the triggers of the shotgun, uhm... the metal tubes on the blunt part of the sword, it fires projectiles made from the teeth of the Shadow Kings. Like those weapons that historians used like us, you know?
— Epilogue — I repeated the name of the sword.
— Excited? — the entity ruined the moment.
— She's perfect. Take her to the top of the tower too.
— Of course.
— What about the machinery in this tower? Can we produce more of that dark blue liquid? — I wanted to know if I could count on a Plan E.
— Unfortunately, the magi-technology used to produce what the ancients called "Ink" is far superior to any knowledge passed down from generation to generation among my people. We know it is the same fluid that lies beyond the Dome above our heads, but we have no idea how to produce it, and as far as we know, the Dome is impenetrable... — Kangar explained, stroking his chin in frustration. — Oh, but we have good news too: we followed the ducts that feed the cannon (the weapon you used to kill the mutant) and discovered large deposits of extremely volatile content beneath the entire valley. We could use them, perhaps?
— Hm, good news indeed. I planned to use Cruz and the others for this purpose, but... make sure I can detonate this entire warehouse in one go — I instructed, and with not much else to do there, I headed for the elevator.
— Lord Shadow King, just one more thing — he called, no longer showing any signs of excitement or lightness on his face, once again the cold necromancer I knew. — ...Could this have anything to do with that Spell you used when you saved us from the mutant? That suddenly empowered Cruz? — I froze, grateful to be wearing the magic hood and hiding my expression of guilt and terror. By any chance, would Kangar have any idea what the most desperate measures I was willing to take were? What he planned to do if that were really the case? — I see. That is the case, isn't it? — he continued without revealing anything, unreadable. — My companions and I will prepare the trap, and we will retreat right after leaving you the instructions on how to activate it.
— Kangar, how could you?! — Cruz glared at the necromancer, his anger clear despite the mask.
— It's okay, Cruz — I calmed my friend with a hand on his shoulder. Apparently, the necromancer knew exactly what I planned to do if everything went wrong, and he wasn't willing to go that far, but he wasn't going to interfere either. — It's okay — I stepped into the elevator with my right hand.
— Haicard — the necromancer called as the elevator bars closed. — Good luck — he wished, pulling back his own hood, revealing black hair and rounded ears, revealing himself as human.